


Sleeping Beauty

by chrobins



Category: Gintama
Genre: F/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 05:05:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5404097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrobins/pseuds/chrobins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I think this is my first Gintama fic?</p>
<p>I've shipped OkiKagu forever but I guess this is my first time actually publishing something?</p>
<p>I hope you enjoy this mini drabble</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping Beauty

It’s an unusual sight to see Kagura defeated, but of course not after Okita came onto the scene and destroyed whoever could lay a hand on his china doll. She was passed out on the ground, hair undone and flowing behind her head. He had been curious as to who could lay a finger on her, and he hadn’t been impressed by the creepy pervert standing over her body, and it didn’t take long to put him in pieces and tossed into the river.

 

Okita considered leaving her there for a mere moment, but then he opted for watching her unconscious body. She had a bruise on her cheek, and he assumed she had a bump on the back of her head from falling back on the pavement. He reached out to touch her cheek gently, and he could feel the anger boiling up inside of him, but he had nowhere to direct his anger except the ground beneath him. So he punched the asphalt as hard as he could.

 

The satisfying feeling was enough to keep his temper at a standstill, ignoring that his hand now hurt like hell. Okita looked at Kagura again; she was so thin, so small, barely any muscle on her at all. He held up one of her arms in hands, noticing how truly light she was; how could someone so small carry a punch that could send an army of men flying?

 

Okita felt droplets of water on his hand, and looked up at the dark night sky, clouds bunching together around them. He looked back at Kagura again, running his fingers along her bruised cheek as if some miracle would happen and it would disappear with his touch. But it didn’t, and the rain showed no signs of disappearing either.

 

Picking her up carefully, he supported her legs and shoulder with his arms, angling her body so her head lolled to his chest. Her dress was torn, a heavy slit running high up her thigh. Okita only stared for a second before his attention was drawn back to her face. Mouth slightly agape, he could see drool trickling down her cheeks. “Gross.” Okita commented with the slightest snicker.

 

But it started to rain harder and Okita had to move fast to Yorozuya if he wanted to make sure she didn’t catch a cold either. His eyes panned over to the rip in her dress, the way her pale leg was exposed. Kagura had probably been taken by surprise, knocked out before she could even react, which was unlike her. Maybe her head was in the clouds. But looking at her now, he wondered how long the pervert had been there, how long had he been alone with her in that state?

 

Okita’s temper was back and his walk broke into a run; there was a bad taste in his throat. Taking cover under a rooftop of someone’s home, he set her down again, and lifted up the skirt of her dress. He heaved a sigh of relief when he noticed her panties were still intact, like the pervert hadn’t gone too far before Okita had arrived.

 

Falling back against the side of the house, he exhaled deeply, like all of the pent up frustration and stress has eased out of his body with a single breath, a single fact that Kagura hadn’t been violated like his imagination let him. But it also brought a laugh to his lips; how could some little girl give him such great distress and yet so much joy? He punched the floor again, bruising his already bloodied had again.

 

“What an idiot.” Whether it was directed at himself or at Kagura, Okita knew not, though he guessed it could have been for the both of them. He picked her up again, trying to erase the image of her long, milky legs out of his mind, the way her pink lips were parted ever so slightly, like a sleeping beauty waiting for her prince to arrive and kiss her back to life.

 

But Okita was no prince, and Kagura was no princess.

 

“You’re freaking heavy, China.” Was all he said before kicking the door of Yorozuya open, dropping her body in the hallway and leaving before the boss would come out and have his head.

 

 


End file.
